


Wildflowers

by twistmyleg



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, Flowers, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, also cyrus is probably awake in altasdam, also therion is not struggling for once yay, and rip zeph he's trying, but still hugs for them both, would therion have a green thumb?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 16:50:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17708009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistmyleg/pseuds/twistmyleg
Summary: They were Alfyn's favorite type of flowers, as they were of the person Therion attempts to pay respect to.





	Wildflowers

**Author's Note:**

> by the gods, it's not 10k words. wowzas. 
> 
> anyway here's therion being therion yet a decent human being. enjoy!
> 
> Edit: added this as part of a series, as an fyi. enjoy nonetheless!

Therion woke to the abnormal absence of snoring.

Immediately, his heartbeat ignited in panic and his eye opened, darting to the other side of the large bed and hands feeling around for the missing person. When it became clear that there was nothing but empty sheets, Therion sat up and glanced out of the window, rubbing his eye simultaneously. The moon shone brilliantly into the bedroom, illuminating the floor and sheets within. Although Therion had no clue to the time, he was aware that it was too late for anyone -- save an eccentric professor delved waist-deep in his studies somewhere in Atlasdam -- to be awake. Especially busy apothecaries who make multitasking seem relatively easy.

Therion let out a breath before rising from the bed and slipping on a pair of boots. He wrapped his old scarf over his neck and slipped a dagger into his pocket before stepping out of the house. Crickets and other creatures gave Clearbrook a unique nightfall ambiance in comparison to the Cliftlands. Their movements and heartbeats were often synchronized with the river that gave the town its name. Therion often had trouble adjusting to the noises as he fell asleep; his partner had known it for as long as he could remember. He carefully glanced around his surroundings, hand on the hilt of his dagger and hoping Aeber had not dulled his senses in taking up a quiet conclusion to his journey. There were no footsteps, no murmurs, or traces of violence within the vicinity. Relieving as that was, it did not answer the question at hand. Therion shook his head and took off toward the other side of town. If anyone knew where the man in question was, it would be his best friend.

Although the lanterns had been blown out, Therion knocked as loud as he could anyway. The louder it sounded, the faster the second apothecary would hasten to the door and answer his question. Then he could find the missing man faster and solve the issue. Knowing him, the issue would be something that had built up over a period of time. Yet he knew he would hide it for the sake of other important matters, such as chiding him for his recent action. Rude as it was, it did the trick. The second apothecary opened the door in five seconds -- five toes that Therion felt become damp from the fresh dew in the grass. His brunette hair gave Therion the impression that he had just saved the apothecary from a terrible dream, yet his eyes spoke of no relief. Only frustration and hidden distrust. 

“...Don’t you know how late it is?” he spoke, rubbing his eyes in a similar fashion. “I understand Clearbrook isn't as exciting as some of the other places you have been in your travels, but it does not give you any reason to--”

“Yeah yeah, I’m aware that I’m not your favorite right now,” Therion interrupted, shuffling his feet anxiously. “Listen. Alfyn’s missing. I figured you of all people would know where he went.” The apothecary leaned his head against the doorframe, concern replacing the initial frustration.

“Missing?” His eyes wandered behind Therion, noting how the moonlight reflected off of the babbling river. “And the tavern’s closed at this hour. Otherwise, I would have told you to check there.” Therion crossed his arms, heartbeat increasing just a bit in pace. 

“That can’t be the only night habit that you know he has, Zephiel. There’s got to be something else; something that would keep him up at night.”  _ Miguel Twinsticks is certainly one of them, give or take how that went down.  _ Therion dismissed the thought.  _ But that was more than a year ago. I doubt it crosses his mind too often now.  _ Zeph’s face contorted in dissent. Therion had learned quickly how much he disliked being called by his noble name. It made for amusing game nights with the apothecary, in which his pride would be on the table in place of money.

“I don’t need to take this from you at this hour. Good night, Mr. Therion.” He moved from the doorway, prepared to shut the door. He could hear Alfyn chiding him internally, shaking his head and placing a hand on his shoulder.  _ I know you an’ Zeph don’t get along too well, but he’s doin’ his best to make ya feel welcome. The least ya could do is return his hospitality _ . Therion sighed and placed a hand in the doorway before Zeph could move the door.

“Fine. I’m sorry. I’m just...concerned for his well-being. It doesn’t completely excuse my rudeness toward you, but…he really is missing. And for him to be out this late doesn’t strike well with me. I figured, as his best friend, it wouldn’t with you either.” Zeph gave him a long look before he sighed and opened the door again. Therion tucked his scarf further over his mouth to hide the smile that had crossed his face in appreciation. “Thanks.”

“I’m only doing this because you’re his…” Zeph’s cheeks became doused in pink before he shook his head. “Nevermind that. Alf’s never had any other night habits, to answer your question. Unless you count his loud snoring. No matter the season either. Although he does get terrible allergies in the spring. Especially when...” His brow furrowed, eyes roaming toward the center of his home at a calendar on the mantle. Within seconds, he disappeared from the doorway toward the calendar, ripping it from its place and skimming through its contents. Therion heard him mumbling under his breath in realization,  “...Shit.” 

“Do we have an answer?” Therion questioned, not able to hide the concern etched in his voice. Zeph nodded, motioning for him to come inside.

“Yeah, unfortunately. I don’t think he’s told you this yet, so best if you stick around awhile for me to explain. Probably because he prefers to keep his worries to himself. A terrible, selfless habit of his.” Cautiously, Therion stepped inside the house and closed the door. “Careful with the noise. Nina’s asleep in the other room.” Zeph’s house was much friendlier in comparison to Alfyn’s. Pictures on the wall told a tale of years in service to the people of Clearbrook, many with Alfyn at his side. Alfyn’s home only had a photo at the bedside; even then, it was of him and Zeph before his journey. Zeph and Nina’s parents only made appearances in the first few photos; they remained absent on the path to the present day. Alfyn had said something before about losing their parents to illness as children, which struck all too familiar in Therion’s heart. His eyes happened upon the last picture of the entire family. Each member bore a mile-wide smile, enjoying a picnic by the river. It was said the Great Pestilence came through that very river... “Gods, I must look embarrassing in those photos.” Therion immediately dropped his gaze to the floor as Zeph approached him, a nostalgic smile imprinted on his lips. “Many of those are from years ago, playing with herbs and not knowing any better. If only childhood innocence could remain that way...”

“...Sorry for looking. I didn’t mean to pry.” Zeph shook his head, motioning him toward a chair.

“Not at all. Please, sit down.” Therion sat across from Zeph at a simple wooden table, adorned with a vase of waterblooms. The calendar sat to the side, with a specific date circled in red and highlighted. Zeph motioned to a steaming teacup in front of him. It smelled of cinnamon and apples, which gave Therion a sense of calm. He had to wonder if Alfyn had told Zeph of his favorite foods prior to his unannounced arrival…Therion took a complimentary sip before speaking. 

“So...the calendar. Something tells me it has to do with the circled date there?” Zeph nodded, taking a sip of his own tea before continuing.

“Yes. I can’t believe it’s passed me by as well, but...today was the anniversary of Alfyn’s mom passing on. It’s been two years now.” Therion swallowed hard on the blazing liquid, creating a searing streak down his throat. His eye watered in response, forcing his hand to furiously rub at it to clear the tears. Zeph watched him as this sequence of events occurred, eyes decrypting him for what Therion could only assume was the correct response. He exhaled in relief before continuing.

“...I...see.” Therion cleared his throat. “And I assume they were...close?” Zeph made a noise of approval, circling the date with a lazy finger.

“Close as they could be. Alfyn’s dad wasn’t around much when we were young. Don’t really know what happened to him, but I never asked. Never wanted to know. Anyway, it made him really attached to his mom as a result. She was his rock to lean on as much as he was hers. They overcame every obstacle in the path together. She taught him what she knew about medicine and gave him his start in Clearbrook. She made him everything he is today.” His finger stopped, a sigh escaping his lips. “Then she fell really ill. A terrible disease she harnessed from a foreign merchant’s culinary goods. She loved to cook, as I’m sure you can tell by Alfyn’s cooking. Anyway, Alfyn did everything he knew how to help her recover, but the illness ended up taking her life in the end. It...it hit all of us hard. She was the kindest woman someone could ask for. Nina and I often considered her a second mother after our own parents passed on. But Alfyn was devastated beyond belief. He...he blamed himself for the longest time, although there is no person that can take the blame for illness. It took him the entire year until he left with you all to finally move forward with his life.”

Therion could almost picture it: a woman who resembled Alfyn standing in the kitchen of their home, mixing up a stew for dinner. Alfyn sat beside her, sorting out herbs for his duties or mixing up his own concoctions to show his mother for approval or advice. Their smiles would be in a similar fashion as they directed it toward each other in conversation: radiant, warm, and gentle. Perhaps Alfyn would tell a joke that Zeph or Nina had told him, and his mother would laugh aloud in response. Maybe she would add her own memory to their conversation, telling him of the good days in a brighter Clearbrook, surrounded by her friends and ancestors. Even if there was no conversation, there would not be a need for words for them to understand each other perfectly. Their spiritual connection would be beyond any other mother-son bond in Orsterra. 

Zeph cleared his throat, bringing Therion’s attention back to the conversation. “You seemed to zone out for a minute there. Something on your mind?” Therion shook his head slowly.

“No. Just...imagining their relationship. That’s all. It sounds...nice.” It left a gaping hole in his own heart, but Therion dismissed it. As much as he still had his own issues to deal with, this was not the time. “I have to assume that Alfyn may have forgotten about it until now?” 

“It would make the most sense. His travels probably had him wrapped up in so much excitement and happiness that his grief slipped from his mind. In that case, he’s most likely at the graveyard paying his respects. Although it has been two years, the topic tends to eat at him for most of the day.” Therion stood slowly, careful not to scrape the chair against the floor. 

“Well then, that’s where I’m heading to find him.” Zeph stood immediately with him.

“Wait, now? It might be better to leave him alone.” Therion paused.

“Did you not just tell me his location so that I could find him?” 

“I told you to help ease your worries. You are important to him, after all. But as I said before, Alfyn tends to keep his worries from others. This is always a subject he has preferred to deal with alone, I’m afraid. No matter who tries to help him.” Therion shook his head and adjusted his falling scarf over his mouth again.

“Unfortunately for him, he has helped so many damn people that his issues start to poke their heads at the end of the trail. And the people he has helped often feel quite indebted for the optimism he has provided to their lost, dark lives. So forgive me when I say I’m still going to see him tonight.” He turned and opened the door, embracing the chill that greeted him. He paused to turn back and glance at a bewildered Zeph by the table. “But thanks for the information. I think I understand it clearly now.” He raised his eyebrows, an idea forming in his head. “Oh, one more question. Did his mother appreciate the same type of flowers as Alfyn?” Zeph nodded lightly.

“Uh, yeah...why do you ask?” Therion turned around and walked out into the moonlight.

“...Thanks again for your help. Sorry to wake you. Sleep well.” Zeph made a movement toward him, but Therion shut the door before he could reach him. Heart eased from the conversation, Therion headed toward the outskirts of the town. His steps echoed the river’s pace beside him: brisk yet calm. His eyes roamed from home to home, noting the flower boxes arranged by the windows. Most of the flowers had begun to bloom, giving the city diverse shades of pink and yellow in addition to its constant green. Some flowers stood tall against the glass, while others reached the surface of the soil. If it were one of their daily strolls, Alfyn would have stopped him for every detail he could spot. His admiration for the nature surrounding their lives was enough for both of them. 

Therion passed the entrance to the graveyard, heading straight for the path to the Cave of Rhiyo, just outside of the city. Although flowers grown and sold by the local florist always piqued Alfyn’s fancy, they were not his favorite. The path to the cave was littered with different grasses and weeds, many growing over their bushes and onto the dirt path in front of them. It was here that saw the most diversity in fauna and shrubs alike: colors of the rainbow and beyond decorated the riverside. Valley after valley of them could be seen from the path, stretching far into the Riverlands and only reaching its borders towards Sunshade. It was an apothecary’s paradise for not only herbs, but for a nature hike as well.

He stopped in front of a peculiar set of wildflowers. The moon’s light reflected upon them, giving their white coloration the appearance of heavenly radiance. Streaks of green dashed across each individual petal, telling a story of a chance encounter with a different flower and cross-pollinating as a result. Where they encountered each other, only the flowers could say. Green flowers in themselves were a rare occurrence for Clearbrook. Therion bent low, reaching his hand out a swiping a finger gently over one of the petals. They were fragile, given the size of their stem and sepals supporting the flower. Therion reached into his pocket and took out a pair of his thieving gloves and his dagger. He thanked Aeber for keeping his sense of preparedness as he adjusted the gloves on his hands. Once his gloves were securely fit, Therion drew the dagger carefully through the surrounding grass. His eyes focused on isolating the patch of flowers, avoiding the roots of its neighbors as the dagger dug deeper. As Alfyn would say, stomping on innocent flowers would be a waste, no?

When the patch was isolated from its neighbors, Therion sheathed his dagger and carefully placed his hands underneath the flowers. Making sure not to damage their roots, Therion lifted the patch safely in his hands. Crumbs of soil trickled from his hands, filling in the gap created by Therion’s dagger. He let out a low whistle as he inspected the flowers and the empty space remaining. Alfyn would have been impressed by his gardening skills. There was no damage to the flowers, roots secure in the soil Therion had kept intact. Therion used his boot to scrape some dirt into the gap, patting it down before he turned back toward Clearbrook.

On the return trip, Therion could not help but think of the grave Alfyn had created in Orewell for Graham Crossford. Although the tombstone was nothing more than a stick in the ground, the flowers that surrounded it were plentiful. Alfyn had asked each member of the group to contribute a flower in respect. Primrose and Ophilia had produced the most beautiful domestic flowers, taking care of them since their recent visit to Goldshore and Noblecourt respectively. Therion could only manage a wildflower he and Olberic had scavenged for close to the Forest of Rubeh. They had apologized numerous times for not finding anything more sufficient. But Therion never forgot the smile Alfyn had given them upon receiving the flowers. It was accepting. It was gentle. It thanked them without a need for more words. Therion wondered what sort of reaction he would garner from these flowers as he stopped quickly in front of the river bank. Guiding the flowers to one hand, Therion used the other to pull out a small bottle hidden in his scarf. He used his teeth to unscrew the cap before dipping it in the water. Closing the cap and slipping the bottle in his pocket, Therion rotated and started up to the graveyard.

On top of Clearbrook’s largest hill, numerous tombstones stood against the horizon. Names of deceased friends and family were etched into each one, listing their successors and accomplishments for the small town. Different flowers adorned the base of each tombstone, often bought from different regions of Orsterra. Therion recognized many from the flower girls at Victor’s Hollow. There were Mind-me-Always -- Ogen’s favorite, which he had to gather -- against a grandmother’s tombstone. Therion noted in his peripheral vision two tombstones identical in shape and wording next to each other. They listed out the many accomplishments of Zeph and Nina’s parents, most notably for their contributions to the town’s economic success. Therion muttered a curse under his breath.  _ If I had been thinking, I would have brought his parents some as well. Don’t know if it would have made him happy, but it would be a step in the right direction. At least, I know Alfyn would say that. _

The man in question was exactly where he was supposed to be. At the far end of the graveyard, Therion noted his hulking figure crouched over a tombstone similar to the rest. His sniffles echoed across the silence, drawing Therion closer and heightening his senses. He stopped a few feet behind Alfyn, taking a moment to gather his thoughts and think of comforting adages. Unfortunately, he was almost never the one that helped Alfyn through with his issues. Ophilia and Primrose had always beaten him to the punch, sitting in a room in the inn and passing him tissues as he bawled his eyes out. His words did not come out as eloquently as the professor’s, nor as truthful as Olberic’s or H’aanit’s. Tressa had tried to teach him a lesson on empathy once, but it had failed miserably when he offended her with an offhand comment. He exhaled sharply, cursing Aeber for not instilling him with empathy when choosing him as his disciple. Nonetheless, he had to try.

“...Alfyn.” 

The apothecary quickly turned his head, locking eyes with Therion. Just from the patches of red within him, he knew that Alfyn had become an emotional mess. Still, the apothecary attempted to hide his troubles and gave him a surprised smile. “Oh, Therion!” His hand immediately wiped at the stray tears furiously. “Fancy meetin’ ya here. I thought I had left in complete silence, honin’ everythin’ ya taught me.” Therion shook his head softly, taking a step forward.

“You did. But you know me. I’m a light sleeper.” He took another step forward, standing next to Alfyn and having a clear view of the tombstone in front of him. The writing on it was different from the rest of the tombstones, listing accomplishments that never seemed to end. “Zeph told me the likely place you would be at, in consideration to the season and date.” Alfyn’s smile twisted into a mixed frown. Part of it depicted scorn, but the other...

“You woke ‘im up? Therion...” He shrugged. 

“I didn’t know who else to really ask at this hour besides him. He’s the only one that knows you better than I do.” He lowered himself carefully onto the ground, balancing the flowers in his hands. Sitting down, the accomplishments really were endless. Almost every town member had something to say about Ms. Greengrass, depicting her as one of Dohter’s disciples that blessed them with her charisma and perseverance. At the bottom of the tombstone, it listed Alfyn as her successor. Therion scanned the tombstone again, searching for the quote that Alfyn would have written. “He, uh, he told me what today signifies for you.” Alfyn averted his gaze, staring straight at the tombstone. His voice lowered itself, taking on a somber tone.

“...Did he?” 

“Told me you have a terrible habit of isolating yourself when it comes to your issues. But I already knew that.” Carefully, Therion placed the flowers in front of the tombstone and he drew out his dagger once more. There were already numerous bundles of flowers in front of the tombstone, with many being grown from the same flower boxes Therion passed by. Therion located a relatively open spot and dragged his dagger carefully around its perimeter. His other hand covered the neighboring flowers, moving with his dagger to ensure that none would be damaged in his actions. In addition, it also scooped out spare dirt, setting it next to his wildflowers in a pile. Therion was aware of Alfyn’s eyes following his actions as he worked silently. It unnerved him slightly, as if he could be posing a great dishonor on his mother’s grave. What trouble he would get into with Zeph if that were the case...

Gently, he placed the flowers in the hole, carefully adjusting the branching petals to mingle with the other flowers despite their fragility. Using the spare dirt, Therion covered the stem securely, as Alfyn had done with Graham’s flowers during the “procession.” The moon provided his light as he did this, displaying the flowers at their most beautiful and giving Therion more confidence to finish. When the flowers were securely planted, Therion retrieved the bottle filled with river water and unscrewed the cap. Careful to avoid watering from above, Therion guided the water closer to the stem and under the petals. The dirt absorbed it instantly, with damp remains thanking him for the gift of life he provided. He exhaled in satisfaction, capping the bottle and slipping in back in his pocket. He then turned his gaze to Alfyn, whose eyes had welled with tears once more.  _ Oh, jeez. I hope I really didn’t just vandalize his mother’s grave. Otherwise, I better get running now. Aeber only knows how fast Zeph is when it comes to tracking me down. _

“...I heard from Zeph that your mother liked the same flowers that you did,” he began slowly, hiding his dagger and removing his gloves. “And I know that you were always one to appreciate flowers from the wild valleys of Orsterra more than the ones they sell in Victor’s Hollow. I figured...you know...that I would bring some to plant at her grave.” He eyed the sparkling petals. “I found these on the path to the cave. They’ve, uh, got a mix of white and green. They reminded me of a few things, but…” Therion’s cheeks flushed with a light shade of rose. His chin instinctually dug deeper into his scarf. “They mostly reminded me of earth and heaven. Connected even though they are worlds apart in a chance encounter. And hearing about you and your mom, I thought...you know...with your close bond, that these flowers kind of captured that…” Therion raised a hand to scratch his head; a habit he learned from the man in front of him. He did not know what else to say, other than to apologize. “I’m, uh, sorry if it seems like I...vandalized...your mother’s grave. I meant no disrespect, honest.” He turned to face the tombstone, bowing at an angle, hands clasped similar to Ophilia’s in prayer. “Sorry, Ms. Greengrass. I, um, didn’t mean to bring disrespect with the flowers.”  _ Not only is Aeber going to smite me with Zeph, but Dohter will also strike me down using the heavens, huh? _ “Um, but if I may…” Therion lifted himself, eyes focused on the line of succession at the bottom of the tombstone.

“I’ve gotten to know a lot about who you are through your son. His friend tells me that you two shared a close bond and that you were the one that influenced most of who he is today. If that’s the case...then you must be as wonderful as these accomplishments account you for. Because your son is an outstanding person who does so much good for this continent, just as you have done so much for the people of Clearbrook. Everyone he meets has been impacted positively by his treatments and his personality, as Zeph, Nina, and the others have been by your same charms. I...am very fortunate to have been one of those people.” His cheeks flushed a darker shade of pink, causing his chin to graze his collarbone as it dug deeper. “I hope, wherever Dohter has guided you, that you are proud of your son. He has embodied everything it seems that you taught him, and stuck true to his convictions. He makes all of us proud to watch him grow and continue to help others. I know that this probably isn’t a very good impression to be meeting on, but I hope to get to know you much more through your son. I would love to get to know the woman that shaped the man I love. Um...” 

Therion fell silent, hand scratching at his head furiously as his thoughts ran fiercely like the breeze.  _ Dohter, strike me now with an axe from above. Gods, I must be an idiot for trying to do this comfort thing. Ophilia would have said something more touching, I’m sure. I bet Prim would know what to say, considering our visit to her father’s grave. H’aanit would do better, giving a speech about the circle of life and how nature feeds itself. Hell, even the professor’s lengthy speech about the history of existence would sound more like a eulogy than mine. Tress was right: I’m really not that good about empathy. I should have listened to her more that day… _

He was about to stand, prepared to excuse himself and make a run for the wilds. If he was fast enough, perhaps he would have more time to prepare himself for when the gods were ready to punish him. Before he could move another muscle, however, he felt strong arms wrap around his figure and pull him close. He blinked rapidly, senses screaming that something had changed about the scenario. His eye glanced upward, boring right into Alfyn’s green ones. Tears spilled uncontrollably from them, rolling down his cheeks and dripping onto his own. “Oh, crap. I didn’t want to make you cry more.” He slipped a free hand to his face, gently wiping the tears away. “I’m sorry, Alfyn. Forgive my…”

“No, Therion. Thank you.” 

“...Huh?” Alfyn loosened his grip, allowing Therion to rotate in his direction, mind slightly bewildered at the simple phrase he heard.

“You’ve given me the greatest sense of comfort I’ve felt in a long time. I love the flowers. I know she would love ‘em too. They’re beautiful, Therion. They’re nowhere near vandalism. They’re thoughtful and wonderful.” 

“...Oh. Um…”  Therion was at a loss for words. Unsure of what else to say, Therion wrapped his arms around Alfyn and pulled him close. He felt Alfyn’s head lower onto his shoulder with a sigh as his grip tightened. A wet patch formed shortly after, expanding on his shirt and parts of his scarf. “I’m...glad I could do something to help you with your...um, your grief. But...um, feel free to cry, if it makes you feel even better. I’ll be here.” Alfyn nodded.

“...Thank you,” he whispered, voice muffled by the scarf. Silence fell between them, save for Alfyn’s sniffles and Clearbrook’s natural ambiance, which morphed with the change in wildlife as time passed. Therion watched as the moon began to lower from the sky, with shades of red and orange blooming in its place. The ocean of stars above dissipated as the waves of light approached them. Occasionally, Therion moved his hands to a different location on Alfyn’s back, giving him a soft pat or rubbing gentle circles in that area. It was all he knew in empathy and the embodiment of what Alfyn had done for him numerous nights. His eyes roamed back to the tombstone, taking in the accomplishments listed once more. This time, his focus landed on a peculiar line in the middle of her accomplishments.  _ The best family Dohter could provide his disciple. _ In comparison to the other epitaphs, it spoke the least of her accomplishments and personality.  _ Most definitely... _

“...She was all I had, Therion,” Alfyn whispered, bringing Therion’s attention back to the man against him. His head had moved to be against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. “I...Pa was never around, so it was just her an’ me. She gave me everythin’ a man could want in a family: wisdom, laughter, friendship, and memories I could carry with me. I loved her ‘till Dohter decided she had done her part for this world. It’s hard to believe that my ma -- my family -- is gone.” He took in a shaky breath. “I mean, Zeph an’ Nina have always been like family t’me. They’re the brother and sister I never had. But e’en so, it doesn’t chase away the holes ya get from losing what you called family. Especially when there’s no one left to call with that placeholder…” Therion tightened his grip. His heart ached for Alfyn, and absolutely refused to let him feel the same way he did.

“Then I’ll be your family, Alfyn.” Alfyn’s breath hitched beside him. “Maybe not by blood, but with as much wisdom, laughter, friendship, memories, and love that your mother could provide you. And before you start sputtering about how it’s too much for me to take on with my own problems in my hands, you are not going to convince me otherwise. You shouldn’t be surprised, considering who I got those words from.” He heard Alfyn let out a low chuckle, lifting his head and eyes meeting his own. The soft, gentle smile he always harbored had returned, yet it did not seem to harbor any secrets. It had said everything it wanted to.

“I figured as much. You always were stubborn, Therion. Just as stubborn as me.” He placed a hand on Therion’s shoulder. “Thank you. This all means more to me than I think you’ll know.” Therion gave him a lopsided smile in return.

“Oh, I think I know. Now,” He stood, holding out a hand to Alfyn, who graciously accepted, “tell me more about your mother. I know the reason now behind your epitaph on her tombstone, but I know there’s so much more than that.” Therion stood, guiding Alfyn with him as they started toward their home across town. Therion could see various residents opening their doors for business and chatting to neighbors alike. Clearbrook rose quickly and with dedication. Alfyn squeezed his hand, smile still wide on his face despite his emotional appearance.

“There always is with family, Therion. So many memories to recall, so many more to make.” Therion gave a light squeeze in return, glancing at the horizon ahead of them. Everything that had built to this point seemed but a faraway dream beyond it now. And everything Therion still had to do waited just beyond its gates still.

“I look forward to all of it.” As they walked through the streets hand-in-hand, Therion could not help but notice the look of solace that crossed over Alfyn’s face. Although Therion was not convinced all of his grief had been washed away, it eased his heart knowing that he had given him a reason to look back upon his family so fondly. Therion glanced at the horizon once more, now streaked with oranges and yellows. Beyond Clearbrook, Therion imagined a stick similar to Graham’s near a riverbed. It had no identifying marks and no flowers to remember them by. It was a corpse with no name, as that man Hugo’s had been. But perhaps one day, when his heart would be willing to unlock the final pieces to his past, he could pay it the same respect that he had toward Ms. Greengrass today. He could bring a new bundle of wildflowers to plant at its side, giving some indication as to the family they belonged to. The memories lost with their disappearance. And the results of their descendants today.

And perhaps show her his own family, many years after he had lost his own.


End file.
